


Broken Glass

by forwhenmybrainhurts



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blood Magic, Body Horror, Depression, Fae Magic, Heartache, Knives, Loss, Magic, Manipulation, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3942976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forwhenmybrainhurts/pseuds/forwhenmybrainhurts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Will's call for help, and Ross' near run in with Kirin, cracks are becoming more and more apparent. Ross is reminded of how much he misses Will, and the rest of the Garbage Court are concerned about a powerful new enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to the playlist I made for this [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/queen_zombie/playlist/5el47opY6hiq2FwG3uOhoy)
> 
> This story is a follow up to [Lonely Sunday](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3592164)  
> And the playlist for that story is [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/queen_zombie/playlist/79k9P5RI9khdENE3qUdozm)

 

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=5wijo8)

Garlands of small lights had suddenly sprung up around the apartment; in every room and around the silliest of objects, like the cistern of the toilet in the bathroom, and the fridge in the kitchen.  
Sips was especially chirpy, so Ross guessed it had been his king’s doing.  
“Where have you been?” Smith asked, politely and with only slight vexation, from his sitting position on the floor beside Sips’ feet. He had obviously been home, showered and changed in the time that Ross had been away. How long had it been? He avoided the kelpie’s question.  
“Where’s Trott?” Ross knew there would be less questioning, less stress if Trott was here to oversee the conversation.  
“He’s in the office, finishing off.” Smith stopped the gargoyle from leaving the room. “You didn’t answer my question.”  
Ross sighed, and looked towards his king. Even he could sense the tension, as he had abandoned the television to wait for Ross’ answer.  
“Will called out to me. He was in trouble,” Ross didn’t want to say any more than that, but he could see Smith’s eyes shining with the knowledge that there was far more to the story.  
The office door opened and closed again, echoing in the hallway. Ross nervously bit at his thumb, and sat at the window seat, avoiding the staring eyes of his housemates.  
Trott appeared in the doorway, a look of relief that the day was done over his face, as he stretched his arms above his head and yawned.  
There was no point in hiding the look on his face, but Ross felt incredible guilt at the news he was about to deliver, no doubt causing Trott to tense up again.  
“What is it?” He didn’t even need the news. The emotion in the atmosphere was enough for the selkie’s shoulders to come up again, and a frown to wrinkle his face.

“I’m sorry,” Ross managed to croak at the end of his story.  
There was a pause. Smith’s mouth was slightly open, the way it always did when he was deep in thought. Sips’ hand was rubbing his forehead, looking concerned, and Trott was sitting next to his king, hands together at his mouth, staring at the floor.  
“It’s okay.” Trott stated, monotone. He realised that his reaction sounded as though none of it was “okay”, and he looked towards Ross, his face softening into warm affection. There was that childlike look again. How did a gargoyle manage to express so much with one marble face?  
Ross’ brows were met in the middle, full of confusion and sadness, and his lips were flushed, and slightly parted. Those aquamarine eyes focused on a knot in one of the wooden floorboards beside the far wall, away from the rest of the people in the room. He was lost.  
Trott stood and walked over to the window seat. He knelt beside the gargoyle, and placed a hand on his knee.  
“It’s okay,” he repeated. It was full of warmth, and Ross faced him, even if the expression on his face hadn’t changed. Trott continued, “We can plan a move from here. Of course, he was trying to rile you; trying to set a trap, but at least we know to be a little more vigilant right now. We can get back on our reconnaissance missions, and find out some more.”  
Trott’s fingers caressed Ross’ knee, and Ross instantly became uncomfortable in his clothes. He wanted to discard them, and trade places with Trott. The selkie’s words were what Ross wanted to hear, but he knew that uncertainty and anxiousness underlined them.  
Ross could only do whatever needed to be done from here, and knew that Trott would tell him what those things might be, so he moved on to the other point of concern.  
“What about Will?” It was a murmured question, as he was sure the others wouldn’t give him a reassuring answer.  
“He is being manipulated, end of. I’ll bet it was that bastard’s doing, to get him to call you. Fuck, it was probably him that hurt Will in the first place.” Smith was sitting far more upright than he had been, clearly frustrated at Ross’ mention of the sorcerer.  
“But Smith, you didn’t see him-” Ross was cut short.  
“He is too far gone, Ross.” The piercing blue eyes of the kelpie felt like a stab wound. Ross scrunched his eyes closed, knowing it was true.  
He felt Trott’s touch on his leg again, this time it was more of a soothing stroke, and it eased Ross back into the room.  
“You’ve done what you can. It’s easier to say than do, but you need to let him go.”  
There was a heavy silence in the room, but Ross eventually nodded.  
“I’ll run a bath,” Trott suggested, his smooth, low voice coating everything and everyone in comfort.  
“Who’s for hot chocolate and marshmallows?” Sips asked.

Ross had relaxed into the night, curling up under Trott’s arm, and not moving until the morning. When Trott woke, Ross was still warm, and the selkie’s fingers traced the bumps and lines over the gargoyle’s forehead and temple, down over his cheek and jawline for a long while. They stayed as they were, the gargoyle still unmoving, until the others stirred.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=59uhjt)

Smith was stubbornly arguing at the idea of going to a museum.  
“I thought you were joking,” he implored.  
Sips merely raised his eyebrows. “I never joke, Smiffy,” his eyes shone with jest, and it only irritated the kelpie further.  
Trott laughed and placed a friendly hand on both of their shoulders. “Smith, you love knowing things, how can you argue with learning something new?”  
“I probably know it already,” Smith chided glumly.  
“Or you’re worried that what you thought you knew is actually bullshit,” Sips suggested, making the selkie laugh again.  
Ross said nothing, but touched every surface he could get near, hanging behind slightly, the others simply letting him. He loved the way stone would react underneath his touch, the way metal railings would echo rhythms as his fingers hit each one in turn as he walked past. Bark and leaves sighed, and moved to stroke him back. They walked through the mall courtyard, and the fountain water tasted Ross’ fingers with need and love. The glass fronted shops nipped at him, calling to the glass which decorated him. His movement halted at a brick wall, however. It reminded him of the wall he had leaned into the previous day, and wondered if the marks he put into the soft, fired clay were still there.  
They were walking only a few streets away from the shop which Kirin had taken Will to. Was Will still there? Swallowing the desire to call the others back, and check it out, or even to slip away down the alleys, he caught up with his friends, and grasped hold of Smith’s hand. If anyone was going to keep hold of him, it would be Smith.  
“It might not be your average museum, Smith,” the gargoyle smiled knowingly at the kelpie, adding even more to the frustration.  
“You know where we’re going? Tell me!”

A Victrola was spinning Rachmaninoff, and Smith watched the mechanism working. The man sitting behind it in a wooden chair painted green and pink motioned to the box of vinyl recordings.  
“If you want to hear something in particular, I can put it on for you,” he said.  
Smith looked up at the man. The room was dark and moody, lit mostly with lamps, and the man’s eyes looked like opals, deep set in a sharp face. The kelpie saw the magic. A pixie. The pixie grinned endearingly. He must have sensed the same in Smith and the others. Smith smiled back, and let out a small sigh of amusement.  
“Thanks,” he said, and thumbed through the records, which were covered in clear plastic to keep them safe.  
They had come to a museum of art, but it wasn’t classic paintings on the wall. Pop art was scattered around - stacked on chairs, covering the bases of display cases and counters, as well as hanging in frames - local artists could exhibit, a small history of music filled one end of the building, looked after by the pixie, first editions of books by local authors sat by small descriptions of their lives, and a room at the back enticed visitors in to learn about the history of the ultimately doomed adult film scene which blossomed in the city during the 80s.  
Sips smiled a secret sideways smile as he walked behind Smith, feeling very pleased with himself at the fact he had managed to keep the kelpie quiet for a while. What he really wanted to do was run his hand over Smith’s back, and enjoy looking through the records with him, but he wondered if it would only distract his tall, auburn haired friend into going back to pouting, even if it was pretend, and just out of stubborn pride. It would only spoil the day. Instead, Sips slipped away, and joined Ross, who was staring forlornly at a collection of leaflets for performances at the old theatre which had been closed down more than a decade ago.  
“I missed this. All of this,” Ross spoke so sadly, and it spread a little to the man standing next to him.  
“So did I, Ross.” The accentuated name at the end of Sips’ reply caused the gargoyle to look up and blink back at him.  
Sips continued, “I mean, I have missed a lot. Everyone has. Even if you have hundreds of years to live through, you can’t see everything you want to see, you can’t do everything you want to do.” Sips lay a supportive hand on Ross’ shoulder. “You can’t be with everyone you want to be with.”  
Ross closed his eyes, swallowed hard, then opened them again, and smiled. “I am with the people I want to be with,” his voice was quiet, but sure, and Sips smiled back.  
“Well that’s good.” There was a small pause. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about wanting something you can’t have. It’s shitty, but it’s also something that everyone goes through now and again.”  
Ross nodded, and appreciated the kind words. It was convincing enough for Sips to move over, and look at some of the photos from the theatre’s heyday, and Ross just managed to hold his composure, even sadder than before, knowing that it was so much more than simply wanting Will.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=xc9lkx)

Sitting on the roof, trying to see further than he actually could, a very glum Ross debated whether he wanted to go for a walk. Part of him said it was just what he needed. He could check out the world foods market, venture to the park, sit by the river; but another part of him knew that however hard he would try, he’d simply end up hunting for Will.  
The gargoyle’s glass speckled fingertips traced his phone inside his hoodie’s pocket. It felt like a dead stone that had been chiseled away from where it belonged. It was cold and lifeless, as it had been since the previous afternoon.  
Something seemed to grab hold of Ross’ throat, and he felt overwhelmingly claustrophobic, despite sitting outside. Anguish and dread filled him, and for the first time in years, he cried. He cried for Will. Ross hadn’t been able to save him, and it meant that all the things the two of them had talked about, all Will’s hopes and wishes, all the moments they had daydreamed, they would never happen. Will’s life was forfeit, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, not now. The only thing to do would be to kill Kirin, and Will was too far under to ever understand or forgive that.  
They’d most likely face off against each other. What would they do? The gargoyle knew it was pointless thinking about things like that, but his feelings simply didn’t allow him to shut it out.  
Sobs quietened, and Ross rested the side of his head in the cold steel vent he was sitting next to. The tears wouldn’t stop though. Their paths changed speed with every hill and valley over the gargoyle’s marble skin. Even marble was flawed. He closed his eyes, and imagined Rachmaninoff again. Smith had been playing it since they’d arrived home, and the disjunct chords made Ross remember Sips’ kindness. Everyone goes through things which hurt like this, though Ross was not yet sure why they had to.

It felt like hours had passed, and maybe they had. The cool wind leftover from yesterday’s rain had turned bitter, and the streets had smoothed to a steady beat.  
Ross was startled by a warm hand on his shoulder, and his eyes struggled to open. Blinking a few more times, Nano came into focus, expression full of concern and willingness to help.  
Ross could only smile. A sudden realisation came over him. He didn’t want to be alone. Nano said nothing either, she simply smiled in return and pulled herself to the gargoyle to hold him close.  
A few moments later, and with a wobbly voice, Ross hummed into the dryad’s shoulder, “You came to see me?”  
Nano squeezed him a little harder, and sighed, almost shocked, “Yes. I felt you hurting. I wasn’t going to just leave it.”  
Different tears filled Ross’ eyes. they were grateful, and guilty. He didn’t want to put this on anyone else, especially those closest to him.  
“I’m okay. I’ll be okay,” The gargoyle sniffed.  
“Ross.” Nano’s tone was stern. “You need your friends right now. Let us help you out. Tell us what you feel.”  
Ross wasn’t sure how to respond. He very rarely let on how things really affected him, and most of the time he could hide it. Where should he start? A few attempts at starting a sentence, and Ross could only frown and shake his head.  
“Do you love him?” Again, this caught Ross by surprise.  
“You’ve seen him?” he asked, immediately.  
Nano smiled sideways, almost grimacing. “Yeah. He’s at home, but not well.”  
“Do you know what happened?” Ross had pulled himself onto his knees, and placed both hands on Nano’s shoulder, looking between her dark brown eyes. He didn’t see the dejected look they carried.  
“Yes.” The dryad paused, looking down at the concrete below their knees. “It’s not pretty, Ross.”  
“Please,” Ross started, cupping a hand under Nano’s jaw to lift her eyes to meet his once more.  
Nano sighed heavily before starting.  
“He was introduced to another sorcerer by the fae. It wasn’t supposed to happen; he walked in on a business meeting, or something. This sorcerer took a liking to Will, and they found out they had common interests. He was told not to go looking for answers from this sorcerer, but he did anyway.” Nano paused again and licked her lips.  
Ross waited for her to continue.  
"The sorcerer told him things about blood magic, and Will indulged."  
Ross was angry; angry at Will for being so stupid, but more angry with the sorcerer who had led him astray.  
"It was more than he could handle. He tried to impress this blood mage, and ended up nearly killing himself."  
A thought hit Ross, born from anger and frustration that he wasn't able to find these things out for himself. "How do you know all this?" He asked.  
A long pause followed, Nano apparently struggling to find the right words to reply. She inhaled deeply before stating as fast as she could, "I've been to see him." The dryad visibly held her breath, braced for an aggrieved reaction from Ross.  
The gargoyle merely closed his eyes.  
“How is he?” he asked quietly. The words sounded like stone against stone.  
Nano saw cracks in Ross’ skin which she hadn’t noticed before. The marble veins seemed darker, too. She wondered if the others had noticed.  
“He’ll be okay. The marks on his arms are going to stay, but he’s free from any curses.”  
“That’s not what I meant,” Ross snapped. He opened his eyes, and the sharp, marquise cut aquamarine shocked Nano. “Is he okay?”  
“No, of course not,” the dryad started to panic. She couldn’t let Ross slip away. “But he will be. He has people around that love him, and who know how to make him better.”  
Ross knew this was true. He sighed deeply, his thoughts finally finding words. “No I don’t, by the way.” Nano looked confused. “I don’t love him. Not in the way I love Smith, Sips and Trott.” The gargoyle paused. “But there’s something so deep and terrifying, that I don’t know how to describe it.”  
Nano smiled. “Some people do call it love, you know. There’s all sorts of love. It doesn’t have to be just home comforts and knowing each other’s personalities.” Ross turned to Nano again, those gemstone eyes softening again. She continued, “It can hurt, it can thrill, it can be dangerous, it can be over as soon as it begins. It can be admiration from afar, it can be in secret, it can be nothing more than a hug.”  
The purple on Nano’s skin was pulsing to a steady beat. Ross watched it, and wondered about her heart. Was it beating to the same pace?  
“If this is what you think, then I love a lot of people,” Ross smiled genuinely for the first time since he had been greeted by his friend.  
Nano saw his gaze travelling over her, and patted him on the shoulder. “I love you too, big guy.”  
Ross laughed softly and turned to face the skyline. “Do you think I could go and see him?” He could pinpoint Will’s house, even if it blurred with the rest of the landscape in the dark.  
Nano chewed the inside of her cheek before answering. She so desperately wanted to say _Yes!_ But reality is always so cold and unfair. “Give him time to heal a little more. Then maybe you can talk. Just, promise me, you will hold onto that thought, and not let your emotions push him further away. You might not ever get him back.”  
Ross knew exactly what the dryad meant. Xephos already made his feelings clear, and Kirin would never be far away from Will. Maybe in time, things could be different.  
Nano wanted to cry. She knew it would be a miracle if the two were ever to meet again. Ross would get better. He would be okay with his friends around him, and they could all move on. But it’s such an unbelievable outcome in those first stages of healing, when the wounds are still sore. And it takes so much to get to a place where they aren't.  
For this moment however, Ross was calm, half-smiling, and full of hope.

He wasn’t worried about this blood-mage. Kirin would have seen to them with no second thought. Besides, Ross didn’t even want to know what their name might have been.  
The gargoyle made his way back to the warmth of the living room in time, and wound as much of himself around his friends as he could, and mentioned nothing of Nano, or Will.

One evening, a few weeks later, Ross returned home with Sips after doing some work, and they were both alarmed to find Trott busying himself with incense, water, candles and his knife. He had prepared a spell, and had apparently been waiting for the others to come home.  
Smith appeared from the kitchen, passing wine glasses to the others in the room, before facing Trott, seemingly ready. However, he reacted to seeing the knife.  
“Woah, Trott mate, what do you think you’re doing?”  
“It needs to be this knife.”  
“You can’t involve spells with it, that’s why you have a ceremonial one. You know what the consequences are.” Smith was so anxious, he made wide strides over to the cabinet beside the bookcase and instantly took the ceremonial knife. He imploringly tried to get the selkie to take it, but Trott could only give Smith a heartbreakingly apologetic look.  
“No,” The kelpie shook his head furiously. “No, I don’t want it in my house, I don’t want it around these people.”  
“What the hell is going on?” Sips bellowed above the chaos.  
Smith turned to his king with a face of terror and anger. “He wants to do blood magic.”  
They all turned to look at Trott, who sighed. “Smith,” his voice was laced with anger too. “Don’t you dare think I want this.” His low tone was enough to cause the kelpie to retreat. “Don’t you dare accuse me of being in any way okay about what is going to happen.” Trott looked at Sips and Ross in turn, begging all the higher powers that there must be another way.  
They all stayed silent, so the selkie started to explain. “We need to protect ourselves. There is nothing else that can protect us as quickly and efficiently as this, and believe me, speed and efficiency are what we need right now.”  
Ross could feel dread building from his core outwards. “Who do we need to protect ourselves from, Trott?” The gargoyle knew the answer, but had to hear it.  
“The fae has made a powerful new friend, and they do not mess around when it comes to getting jobs done. Short of it is, they are looking for a way to hurt us, badly. If we’re not careful, they’ll be successful before we know it. I can’t have it. I can’t have any of you hurt, or any of this taken away. Are we all clear?” The selkie was pointing with his knife, and it only reinforced how serious this was.  
Holding back his thoughts, Ross wanted nothing more than to scream. This was the same person who had hurt Will, no doubt. They were still walking around; still working with Kirin. They must be powerful, otherwise the fae would have made them pay for their actions, surely. This thought scared him the most. If even Kirin feared this mage, what would it mean for the rest of them?  
Ross stepped forward and held his arm out to Trott. The selkie’s eyes thanked him, and apologised, before they moved to watch the knife score a pattern, and the blood from it drip into the bowl of water.  
Once all of the members of the household were marked with the protective pattern, they performed the spell together, and each tied a vial of the blood water around their necks.  
Smith pouted through most of the ritual, but felt more relaxed once it was over. The talisman against his chest soothed the hairs on the back of his neck, which had been standing up for a good few days - his senses aware of something dangerous close by - and an immense protective power surged through his blood, sourced at his arm, which he was wrapping in bandages.  
Trott explained that the immediate feeling of being able to take on anything would subside after a week or so, and it didn't mean in any way that they were protected from any and all danger they might come across from this character they were yet to meet. But they were safe in their home, and safe from curses or spells which the mage might have conjured remotely.  
The evening was spent sitting mostly in silence, the comfort of sitcoms on the television.

It was a mere three days later when Ross saw the mage. He knew it was them, from the overwhelming surge of strength he felt in his blood when they passed him in the street. It was down one of the narrow old streets in which buildings would merge into each other, overlapping, and heavy wooden support beams would create waves in painted plaster. Those lanes would always unnerve the gargoyle. It was so different from the modern parts of the city, which were broad and breathable. No one was to say what may have happened in these cobbled streets through their history, and even now, the buildings shadowed the ground, to make you feel as though you had gone back in time.  


[](http://tinypic.com?ref=2u95qns)

 

Ross made mental notes of everything he saw, heard, smelled, felt, and took them back home with him. He made sure not to acknowledge the mage’s presence, and give himself away, but he couldn’t say if the mage knew of his exposure or not. It hurt every strand of his soul to do it. He wanted to turn, pursue the mage, and kill them.

“Short, black hair. It looked natural. Really shimmering skin, but not like they had put glitter paint on or anything, more like something from inside. Definitely not human. I think they were male, but that’s only based on his facial features. He was really small. Sharp, high cheekbones and a pointed chin." As Ross described the man to the others in the room, Smith's mind was working hard.  
"Pixie," he interrupted. He was staring at one of the strings of lights. They reminded him of opals.  
"What?" Sips questioned.  
Smith was back in the room. "The museum. Did anyone notice the pixie who was looking after the Victrola?"  
"There are plenty of pixies in the city, Smith. But I think you might be onto something. It does sound like we are dealing with a pixie." Trott pondered.  
"How the fuck did a pixie get involved with blood magic?" Smith asked the question rhetorically. There was no obvious explanation for something like that. "Something must have happened to him."  
Trott nodded and placed his hands on his hips. "Something awful."  
Ross had been listening to his friends talk about this creature, but the boiling blood in his veins was still pumping hard. “He was the one who hurt Will.” A wave of silence washed over the room. “Nano came to see me, and explained what had happened to him. He got caught up trying to impress this mage, and it backfired.”  
“You’ve been seeing her too?” Smith was firey.  
“Smith,” Trott started.  
Smith calmed himself. This was not the time.  
“She came to see me, because she knew I was hurting.” Ross was as calm as he could be, but he couldn’t help the small tone of sarcasm. Trott noticed, but Smith said nothing. “I want to kill this mage for what he did.”  
Sips reacted to this, “I’m with you. If it gets rid of him, then let’s do it.”  
“And then what?” Trott’s tone hushed the room. “The fae will find another way to hurt us, another way to get to us. We are better off making them believe they have one over on us, when in reality they don’t.”

It’s hard to forget something that you’re still so closely attached to. Ross cried again, for the loss of a good friend, and the way his housemates continually overlooked any mention of Will’s name, like they didn’t even want to acknowledge his existence.  
Nano didn’t come this time, and Ross didn’t want her to. He reached out with all of his inner strength to the little house which he couldn’t define, to the small attic bedroom, in the hopes that Will was even still living there. But nothing came back to him.  
Still, his phone was heavy in his pocket, as good as dead, but he couldn’t seem to forget it any more. It stayed with him, whether for comfort, or in the genuine hope - or fear - that Will would call for him again, the gargoyle simply didn’t know.  
Unable to stop himself, Ross walked through the city, to the suburban street in which the little house stood. He could feel the magic repelling him from two houses away, and he held back, knowing if he went any closer, he’d feel the effects.  
For an hour and a half, he stared at the small attic window, the one above the bed, where they would lay, Ross watching Will intently through the night. There was something so endearing about him sleeping. Maybe it was because he was so closed, and quiet.  
Sleep and dreams make people vulnerable. It’s the closest to getting inside someone’s mind, so for Ross, watching Will’s breathing change, his eyes and muscles react to his dreams, was simply fascinating.  
The gargoyle thought about going to the back of the house, to where the door led out to the balcony, but he couldn’t find the strength. He was terrified that he might actually see Will. He didn’t know how he might react to that.  
An orange glow was coming from one side of the room. The floor lamp was lit, but Ross saw no movement whatsoever; Will might be there, he might not.  
A small figure went to the door. At first, it looked like a child, but the symbol on the gargoyle's arm prickled with anticipation, and he moved through the magic pushing at him, hidden in the shadows of the trees from across the road. As he got closer, it was clear that this was just the person Ross didn't want it to be.  
The pixie stood, slim and cloaked in black. The hair was black too, and Ross caught sight of half a profile as the door was opened and the hallway light illuminated them. High cheekbones and a sharp chin grinned charmingly at Honeydew. The features were rather pretty.  
“Parvis, how are you?” The dwarf shook the pixie’s hand, and allowed him over the threshold. The door closed, and Ross heard nothing more. The sick feeling in his stomach - whether caused by the magic, or by the revelation that the blood mage was allowed into the house - made him turn back to his original standing place.  
Ross panicked. Why would Kirin let this Parvis guy anywhere near Will? Unless it was all in secret. A sharp tingle started in Ross' forearm, and travelled round his body, in his blood. Instinct told him to turn, and he was faced with an approaching Kirin.  
“He’s okay, Ross.” The fae spoke, and all of Ross’ energy was put into keeping his legs from giving way. “He’s getting better, he’s happy, and he doesn’t need any more confusion or heartache from you.”  
The gargoyle snapped. “Me? I have done nothing but help him, nothing but care about him. More than you ever will. You let this mage hurt him, and did nothing about it, because you’re scared of him. How pathetic can you get?”  
Kirin’s eyes flashed, and Ross stopped. He placed a hand on the tree nearest to him, for support.  
“He brought it on himself. He was the one doing the magic. Magic goes wrong sometimes, that’s it.” Kirin folded his arms as he spoke. “You’re not here to be angry at me, though. And you’re not here to find the mage.”  
Kirin stood beside the gargoyle and looked towards the house. Ross turned to do the same.  
“You want to know who that young man is?” Ross didn’t reply, but Kirin explained. “He is a pixie, with a backstory and a half. He's not as powerful as you may have been led to believe, you know. Like I said, it was Will who was performing the magic. I'm not scared of him in any way, I'm scared of what Will might not be able to control."  
Again, Ross held back his words. Spitting words were what the fae wanted. He was teasing and mocking, the way he had all those weeks ago, in the conservatory. Will was so far under at that time, that he probably wasn’t even paying attention to what Kirin was saying. The fae had been speaking to Ross.  
Ross could also have asked why on earth this mage had been going to Xephos, Honeydew, and Lomadia’s house, but he had a feeling he’d get the answer sooner rather than later, and he didn’t want to hear it.  
“Parvis has been going to see Will quite often. They get on very well. I think the young mage is quite taken with Will’s powers, but thankfully they are both keeping away from doing any blood magic together. I believe they busy themselves with other pastimes.” Kirin was being so blatant about hurting Ross, but at a stage like this, when someone you miss so much seems to be perfectly happy without you, you tend to believe what other people tend to say about them. “Speaking of which, I believe you have been trying out blood magic yourselves. After all, the curse didn’t work.”  
Ross’ oily mind took a few moments to clear before he questioned Kirin. “What? What curse?” he asked, exasperated. He wanted nothing more than to leave, and get away from the fae.  
Kirin grinned. “The mage tried to curse you the other day, but he sensed your protection mark. Very clever. It put us back a few steps, for sure.”  
Ross couldn’t tell if Kirin was telling the truth or not, but he couldn’t risk it. “Can I go now?” he asked.  
Kirin turned to the gargoyle and eyed him. “You look tired, and not quite as human as when I last saw you. Everything alright?”  
Ross blinked in reply, surprised, but acutely aware of the fae’s manipulation techniques.  
Kirin sighed. “Go home, Ross. But just promise me you’ll look after yourself a little more. Take some time out or something.” There was a pause, and Ross turned to leave. “Oh, one more thing,” Kirin stopped him, and his eyes bored to the gargoyle's core. “Don’t ever come back here.”

Smith dug his elbow into Ross’ side, wondering why he wasn’t laughing like the the rest of them were. When there was still no response, Smith turned to the gargoyle. The laughter was immediately cut off, and the others stopped to, wondering what could have caused the sudden change of tone.  
Ross’ eyes were aquamarine gemstones, lacking in life, and his hand was up at his marbled skin, more mineral than ever, and he was deathly still.  
Smith touched Ross’ face, harshly stroking the bumpy skin. He took the gargoyle’s hand in his, and squeezed.  
“Ross?” he implored.  
Ross closed his eyes for a moment, and moved with apparent difficulty to face his friends. When he opened his eyes they were human-like again, and his skin softened.  
“Yeah?”  
No one knew what to say.  
“You scared me,” Smith stated, serious in tone.  
Ross wetted his lips with his tongue and looked guilty. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just thinking.”  
“Too hard, clearly. It’s not good for you, mate,” Smith laughed nervously.  
Ross murmured “Hmm.”  
Trott’s eyebrows were furrowed and his lips pursed. Something must have happened.  
“Did you see him again? The mage?” he asked.  
Ross looked to Trott, and it hurt that the selkie didn’t know what the problem really was. He shook his head slowly, begging them to understand.  
“Maybe he cursed you the other day, or something.” Trott mused out loud, drumming his fingers on his knee.  
Ross stood, and seemed to take up all available space in the living room. He wanted to say more, but could only whisper, “Maybe,” before heading to the roof.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=e6rps7)

He called Nano on his phone, and she was there within minutes. The two sat for a while, saying no more than small talk, until Ross could bear it no more.  
“They don’t want to know. They don’t want to about how I feel. Why should I tell them?”  
Nano had no words. Even with all her wisdom and comforting words, she couldn’t say why the others had apparently ignored the way Ross had been feeling. It didn’t make sense anyway. Nothing could penetrate the bond between the four of them, but something was damn well trying.  
Ross didn’t tell Nano about the blood magic, but in hindsight, it would have been a good idea.

Hours passed, and Sips was pacing the floor. “Something is not right, not at all.”  
Watching their king pace back and forth was stressing the kelpie to the point of verbal frustration. “Fuck sake, stop it!”  
Sips sat glumly on the arm of the sofa, and Smith sighed before placing an apologetic hand on Sips’ shoulder.  
“I’ll go get him,” Trott assured, even though his heart was pounding with dread. The same dread as the others were feeling. The blood pumped at a thudding pace as the selkie climbed the stairs. He reached the door, and held a hand over the knob for a minute before opening it slowly.  
Trott simply sank to his knees and crawled to Ross’ sitting spot beside the air vent, which had been abandoned, along with his phone.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=2cr342u)

 


End file.
